


Here

by hailqiqi



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Shower Sharing, and yes they share a shower but it's platonic idk either, it wasn't intended to be it just is, platonic plance i suppose, this is actually very gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 10:11:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16808584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hailqiqi/pseuds/hailqiqi
Summary: Sometimes we all need a little help to drown out the demons.





	Here

**Author's Note:**

> I saw this [fantabulous plance art](https://artemisarya.tumblr.com/post/180686641306/raining-plance) and had to fic it.
> 
> I have no idea how this ended up gen.

The shrill scream brought him back to himself with a rush of heat and steam and sound.

“Shit!”

His back hit the cooler side of the bathroom door seconds later, the image of a naked Pidge with shampoo in her hair bringing him more self-disgust than arousal. They’d been using the Castle’s shared bathroom for over a year now. How the fuck had he managed to miss the sound of the shower?

_The same way he’d managed to miss—_

“Lance?”

Pidge’s voice was gentle, and not nearly angry enough. Lance closed his eyes. Maybe he could pretend he’d left already, and then he wouldn’t have to face her. He could grovel in the morning. They could pretend everything was fine.

That plan went to hell when the door slid open. He flopped backwards with a cry of surprise, saved from an untimely meeting with the metal flooring only by the girl herself.

“Are you okay?! What were you doing on the door?”

“I…” Lance let her help him to stand upright before turning around, careful to avert his gaze from how she clutched at a towel to protect her modesty. “I...I guess I wasn’t thinking.”

_I guess I’m good at that._

Pidge blinked at him, concerned. “Right. Look, you obviously need to…” she trailed off, glancing briefly at his chest before continuing. “Ah... shower, and I don’t mind waiting, so you go first, okay?”

Her words didn’t make sense. “I go first…?” he repeated. “But you’re already…”

“Yeah, but, obviously you need to wash more…” She gestured vaguely at his bare torso with her free hand. “And I’m like, half-clean already, so I don’t mind just calling it a night.”

_Oh. Right. The blood._

She was already inching her way around him when he found the wherewithal to respond, something unpleasant curling in his gut. “No, you stay and finish. I’ll just wait.”

“Look, Lance, you obviously need to—”

“Stay,” he said firmly, grasping her shoulders and moving her back in front of him. “Please. I’d feel worse if I knew I’d kicked you out of your shower after barging in on you like that.”

Her mouth fell open, as if to argue, and he cut her off. “You wouldn’t be doing me any favours.”

She stared at him, disbelieving, and he looked away rather than meet her gaze. Wisps of steam floated in the air behind her, and the only sounds were the low humming of the ship and the steady _drip, drip, drip_ where Pidge obviously hadn’t turned the water off properly.

Warm fingers curled around his. “You can join me, then.”

His gaze snapped to hers. “What—?”

“Don’t make it weird, Lance,” she huffed, already tugging him into the room and closing the door behind them. “C’mon. I’ll help you wash all that off.”

A part of him was grateful that she hadn’t said the word. The rest of him was too numb and overwhelmed to respond, his brain having given up the fight somewhere between ‘becoming a mass murderer,’ ‘almost dying,’ and ‘seeing his first naked woman in real life’.

It was shaping up to be a really weird day. Probably would have been more enjoyable if it wasn’t for the screams still echoing in his skull.

He didn’t protest when Pidge cast her towel aside and reached for his, her fingers making quick work of the knot at his waist. Then she pulled him towards the shower, pushing him towards the middle as she keyed in the settings for a shower like the ones they had at home.

Hot water hit his skin and he turned his face to meet the spray, the hissing of the shower muting the screaming to a dull buzz and washing away the last of his bravado. Behind him Pidge murmured a warning and he nodded mutely, barely acknowledging when her hands began smoothing soap over his skin.

Pidge cleaned his back slowly, her motions unhurried and meticulous. He could only imagine the mess his back was — from the way she scrubbed at patches, the blood must have been caked on thick — but Pidge made no comment, and Lance wasn’t brave enough to look down and see the red swirling down the drain. Lifeblood lost twice, now, because of him.

Instead he closed his eyes and tried to focus on the physical. The here and now. He’d always loved hot showers, even on the hottest of summer days, and despite the mission he could feel the weight in his heart slowly evaporate with the steam. The presence at his back and the gentle kneading of warm fingers against his taut muscles eased a small part of the tension knotting in his throat, and he was suddenly very, very glad that Pidge was with him.

“Thanks, Pidge.”

Her motions paused. “What for?”

“Just…” He lifted a hand over his shoulder, catching her fingers in his and holding them briefly. “For this.”

“Oh.” She chuckled softly, then pressed a soft kiss against his back. “Anytime.”

She resumed her work, steadily working her way lower until she finally nudged him to turn around so that she could work on his front. All he could do was admire her, drowning in an almost overwhelming wave of gratitude as she slowly cleaned the evidence away, treating his body with all the care and focus she bestowed on her beloved robotics. More, even. Clearly, more. He’d seen her work on countless robots, and she’d never looked quite like that, never so attentive and compassionate and _caring_.

He didn’t deserve it.

Her hands moved back up to his collarbone, a flash of red in his peripheral vision, and the knot in his throat suddenly became too much to bear. “Pidge, stop.”

She froze, hands still against his skin. “...Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“I…” No, no, not that. _Never_ that. He removed her hand, letting it drop by her side instead. “I— I don’t deserve this. I missed.”

Pidge took a half-step back, her lips parted in a little ‘o’-shape as she studied him. Her eyes were full of concern — concern for him, but it was wasted. Who was he to stand here and accept her care? She was allowing herself to be naked before him, to be _vulnerable_ before him, and he couldn’t even save—

The shower wasn’t helping anymore.

“Pidge, I missed,” he repeated, hoping she’d get the hint and leave because he didn’t think he had the strength to leave _her_. “Pidge, I missed.”

“I know.”

“Pidge, I _missed_.” She wasn’t leaving. Why wasn’t she leaving? “I missed, and they all died. All those kids died, because _I_ missed the guy with the bomb.”

It was an easy shot. The sky had been blue, the weather perfect, but somehow he’d _missed_ and then the next thing he knew the world had exploded in heat and noise and pain and the only thing he could process were the screams the screams the _screams_.

Pidge stepped towards him, gentle hands wrapping around his back and pressing him to her, pulling him back from the edge before he could fall too far. Lance sucked in a breath and they stood, frozen, echoing screams slowly fading into the sound of falling water.

When he couldn’t hear them anymore he swallowed, trembling, his voice barely a whisper.

“Pidge, I missed.”

She only held him tighter.

“I know, Lance. I was there.”

He buried his face in her sodden hair and cried.


End file.
